
Anyway, I remember one particular Christmas recital that was held in this really pretty church. The only unfortunate fact about the setting was the location of the piano. It was just a little too close to the front row. Because a ton of people were there, people even sat on the very front row. The piano keys faced the audience so that the performer's back would be to those in attendance.
When the recital began, I watched as each pianist approached the bench and played his or her pieces, dazzling the audience. I wanted to do just as well. When it was my turn, I stepped up to the front, trying not to look as nervous as I felt. The whole place was silent, and I waited a moment before I began to play The Hallelujah Chorus, part of Handel's Messiah. Rhythm and emphasis were really important in this particular piece, and when I started out with the right tempo, I was relieved. I played the first few lines without incident.
Then, the unthinkable happened. The entire piano bench began shifting beneath me every few moments for some unknown reason, and it was totally throwing off my rhythm. Panicking, I tried to figure out the source of the interruption. It didn't stop. I wasn't anywhere close to the end of my song. I hadn't messed up yet, but if the bench-jerking didn't stop immediately, I was sure I would.

I finished the song without making a mistake. Then I returned to my seat. That is how you deal with Piano Bench Kickers. (I mean, sometimes you will have to tell them to stop, but if a nasty glare will suffice—which is usually the case because people like that know better—go for it.) If you are a Piano Bench Kicker, stop it. If your offspring is one, tell him or her to stop it. If (when) you come across Piano Bench Kickers, don't let them interrupt your groove.